


Old but not blind

by kiki_92



Series: Siege the Christmas [3]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Meet the Family, Polyamory, Siegemas 2019 (Rainbow Six)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21791740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiki_92/pseuds/kiki_92
Summary: Siegemas 2019, day 14Prompt: 17. “Everyone knows you have to pretend to like your in-laws.”Go check out @dualrainbow on Tumblr for more !Fuze doesn't want to let his grandma spend the Holidays alone, although he's nervous about introducing his lovers to her.
Relationships: Maxim "Kapkan" Basuda/Timur "Glaz" Gazkov/Shuhrat "Fuze" Kessikbayev/Alexsandr "Tachanka" Senaviev
Series: Siege the Christmas [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1219520
Comments: 16
Kudos: 73





	Old but not blind

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to my dear friends [Grain_Crain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grain_Crain/pseuds/Grain_Crain/works) & [ToDragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToDragons/pseuds/ToDragons/works) for beta reading this story <3
> 
> I promised y'all I would write about Fuze's babushka, and here it is, her introduction!

They are lost, Shuhrat is sure. There has been nothing but snow covered trees on each side of the road for at least an hour. A few wild boars crossed in front of them and nearly collided with their car, but aside from that, no other signs of life. He can’t remember the last time they saw another car. Only a lone bus reminds them the existence of villages that are invisible from the road. Like the one that will be their destination, if they ever reach it.

It’s been years since Shuhrat last visited his grandmother, but he didn’t remember her village being so isolated from everything, and he can’t avoid thinking they are lost. His hypothesis seems to be confirmed when the GPS’ robotic voice commands them to turn to the left in the next intersection. There is no such thing ahead for as long as they can see.

“Timur, make sure you put the right address in there,” Alexsandr orders more than asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

From his spot on the front passenger seat, Timur tinkers with the car’s GPS. “This thing is trash, it somehow reset the information I put in and now shows we’re at the airport again.”

He’s sure Maxim would make a sarcastic comment about the quality of Russian technology if he wasn’t fast asleep next to him. Typical of the hunter, he always ends up falling asleep during any long trip, be it by car, train, plane or helicopter. In the front seat, Timur jokes about how a faulty GPS ranks pretty low on the list of things that could go wrong with a rented car. It’s apparently a long list, Timur is very imaginative coming up with outlandish scenarios, and even Alexsandr joins in after a while.

Shuhrat tunes them out after a while, choosing instead to stare out of the window. There’s a sign by the side of the road, worn and bent as if a car had crashed against it at some point, but indicating they’re close to their destination. So they’re not lost after all. The ball of nervousness lodged on his stomach grows larger. Coming to spend the holidays here, back in his childhood home, hadn’t been part of Shuhrat’s plan. Not until his mother called, informing him of the news. Just an unfortunate slip and a broken wrist, she said. Still, Shuhrat worries about his grandmother. Especially when his parents won’t be there, since they’ll celebrate the New Year with his mother’s side of the family. Visiting her for the holidays is the least he can do.

The original idea was that he would go alone, and yet that plan lasted less than a day. It warms Shuhrat’s heart that they are all so ready to come with him to visit his grandmother. Alexsandr’s kids are spending the holidays with their mother, but he could be with his dear sister and nephews. Timur could go home to visit his own family, he hasn’t seen his parents since last year. Maxim has two brothers and a slew of cousins and nephews, a big family to spend the holidays with. And yet they all chose to stay by his side.

The car goes over a pothole and Shuhrat feels his teeth clack together with the force of the impact, while Maxim gets a rude awakening in the form of hitting his head on the window. “Ow, what the fuck!”

“Ah, the sleeping princess finally wakes up,” Alexsandr jokes, unaware of the death glare Maxim levels at him while rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head, messing up his hair in the process.

Another sign appears on the horizon, and Shuhrat barely pays attention to Maxim insulting Alexsandr’s driving abilities. If the previous sign was to be trusted, and judging by the amount of time they had been driving since they left Moscow, this one should indicate the branch off to his grandma’s village.

“Guys,” Shuhrat interrupts Alexsandr and Maxim’s little argument. “You need to know that gran can be a bit enthusiastic when meeting new people. Don’t be surprised if she clings to your arm, or tries pinching and kissing your cheeks.”

“Oh that’s adorable, little baby Shuh getting his cheeks pinched by his _babushka_!” Maxim says in a mockingly high pitched voice, attempting to pinch his face while speaking. Shuhrat whacks him on the side of the head, and the hunter shoves him in retaliation.

“She doesn’t sound that different from any other grandma,” Timur comments in a clear attempt to put some peace. “Or from your niece, right Maxim?”

Shuhrat can’t help smiling when remembering the adorable little troublemaker, and how she surprisingly took a shining to him out of all of ‘ _uncle Max’s boyfriends_ ’. On his left, Maxim grumbles about how his niece is too observant, and Shuhrat remembers how her cheekiness was the bright spot on an otherwise trainwreck of a visit. He hopes this one will go better, because Shuhrat is sure if his grandmother realises that not only he is with a man but with three, she’ll have a heart attack. After all, that was more or less the reaction of Maxim’s brother, and he isn’t old as Shuhrat’s grandma.

As if he’s able to read his thoughts, Maxim leans closer and puts his arm around Shuhrat’s shoulder, his face serious and earnest.

“Don’t worry, we can behave for a few days and try to charm her, even if she dislikes us at first glance. Everyone knows you have to pretend to like your in-laws, right?” Maxim points out. “It can’t be worse than having Sasha’s sister trying to corner me alone at every turn.”

Alexsandr grunts something unintelligible, still unamused by the interest his sister had taken in Maxim, while Timur teases the hunter about how he’s just irresistible to the Senavievs. After that, a sort of sullen silence falls over the car, all quietly contemplating how the interactions with each other’s families have gone up until now. Shuhrat desperately hopes this one will break the streak of bad luck, and he’s sure Timur is hoping the same for when it’s the turn to meet his parents.

After a few more miles, they suddenly arrive at the village. It was like suddenly stepping into a postcard, a smattering of large wooden houses covered in snow, surrounded by a mix of leafless trees and imposing pines, and a few cows crossing what could be considered the main street. It’s exactly as it used to be when Shuhrat was a kid, and yet he somehow used to think the village was bigger. Funny how growing up changes the perception of so many things.

There is no name on the fence nor any other distinctive feature that sets this house apart from the rest, but Shuhrat recognizes it anyway. He asks Alexsandr to park in front of that one, and he gets out of the car before the rest.

Behind the wooden fence, he spies a figure bent down shoveling snow. It’s quite a difficult task to do using just one hand, and Shuhrat knows of one person who is stubborn enough to do that by herself instead of asking a neighbour for help. He doesn’t have to speak, his shadow on the snow being enough to make the old woman raise her gaze up to him.

“Shuhrat, my darling boy!” The shovel falls onto the snow with a dull thud, and she throws herself at him in a ferocious hug. The top of her head barely reaches Shuhrat’s chin, but despite that and her age and her tightly bandaged arm, she’s far from fragile; her hugs are still bone-crushing. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Hello _buvi _,” the words are familiar, but it’s been so long since he said them in person. Shuhrat pulls back as soon as she releases him from her tight grip. 

“You look good, nice and healthy.” She says with a warm smile at him, holding onto his arm. “I see you’ve been taking good care of yourself and eating the food I send, good.” 

The crunching of snow and frozen dirt beneath three pairs of sturdy boots finally clues Shuhrat’s grandma that they aren’t alone. The other three lounge awkwardly by the side of the fence, waiting. Sasha holds his and Shuhrat’s bags, and both Maxim and Timur offer his grandma a hesitant greeting.

“Oh, you brought friends with you!” She sounds so excited, as if he was a little boy again who spent more time alone than playing with other kids. “Well, aren’t you going to introduce them?”

“Uh, right,” Shuhrat makes a vague gesture towards them. “The big one is Sasha, then there’s Maxim, and the idiot in the beanie is Timur.”

His voice is fond enough that he just gets a smile from the artist, but grandma hits Shuhrat’s arm while reminding him to keep his manners. She releases him to latch onto Timur’s arm instead and ushers them all inside.

The living room isn’t small, but the sparsely decorated Christmas tree occupies a good part of the space. In contrast to the cold outside, the room is pleasantly warm, the metal heater still doing a good job despite being as old as Shuhrat himself or even older. 

“You boys must be starving!” His grandma concludes, going straight to the kitchen and starting to assemble pots and pans and ingredients. “I’ll make you soup! Or do you prefer stew?“

“ _Buvi _, we stopped to eat before coming here, we’re fine.”

Shuhrat should have suspected this wouldn’t be a deterrent for her, who dismisses his concerns with a wave of her hand. “I’ll prepare some tea for you and then start with dinner.”

It’s barely four pm, but it gets dark soon in winter, and she will insist on an early dinner, anyway. Since Shuhrat insists that she shouldn’t use her bandaged arm too much, to let the wrist heal, they all get drafted into helping. Alexsandr volunteers to bring more wood for the old stove, while Maxim chops and dices all the meat and vegetables as instructed, adding perhaps a little extra flair in his movements than usual. What a showoff.

While they are busy in the kitchen, Shuhrat and Timur bring all of their bags to the guest bedroom. There’s only a bed, but one big enough to fit at least two of them, maybe three if they don’t mind being squished. On the wall there are pictures of his family: his parents, him and his brother as kids, some of his cousins. There’s even one of him and a blonde woman, both smiling at the camera and yet only her looks are truly happy, beaming with joy. 

“Is this…?” Timur asks, pointing at the picture in question.

“Valentina,” Shuhrat confirms. He’s told them of his almost-wife, of course, but he never showed them any photographs. “That was the day I proposed, I think.”

“She’s pretty,” Timur smiles kindly, “but I think we got the better end of the deal.”

Shuhrat can’t help laughing quietly at his words, shaking his head in fond disbelief. “Let’s go back to the others.”

He accepts the quick kiss Timur presses on his cheek before grabbing a notepad and a pencil from his bag, then follows Shuhrat back into the kitchen. They arrive in time to hear how Alexsandr is finishing a sanitized re-telling of that one time they got drunk during a hunting trip and Shuhrat nearly shot Maxim by accident. 

Despite Maxim’s joke in the car, none of them are good at pretending to get along with someone they don’t like, and they all look too relaxed to be faking it. Sasha and Maxim bicker over the events of that day, Timur sketches in his notebook while occasionally correcting the two defenders, and his grandma has a big smile on her face while listening to their antics and gasping at the dramatic reveal. It looks downright cosy, everyone at ease, and Shuhrat feels a weight lift from his chest. He hadn’t realised until now how important it was for him to have his lovers and his grandma getting along.

_ _

“Ow! Get off, fat ass!” Maxim wheezes, trying to protect his back from Shuhrat’s knee as he scrambles to get out of the bed and Alexsandr’s grasp. Well, not exactly his grasp, since Sasha just flopped down on the bed, pinning both Maxim and Shuhrat beneath him.

It’s clear the bed isn’t big enough for the four of them; despite being a double, it’s quite narrow. Timur is the only one who didn’t jump into the pile, only because he’s too busy laughing his head off at Maxim’s indignant protests, Shuhrat’s desperate attempts to wiggle away, and Alexsandr’s pleased face as he holds both of them down.

“This is not so bad,” Sasha declares, tightening his grip on Maxim to curb his attempts to literally kick him out. “I think you could join us Timur!”

“No fucking way!” Maxim’s complaint comes out slightly muffled, since his face is now squished against’s Alexsandr’s chest.

“Shhh, not so loud!” Shuhrat reminds them in a semi-whisper. “You’ll wake up _buvi _.”

There’s a beat of silence and then they all start laughing; barely stifled chuckles at first, but it grows in intensity until they’re all gasping for breath. In the end he doesn’t even know why they are still laughing, only that it’s hard to stop. He’s also certain there’s no way they haven’t woken up his grandma, since her room is next to this one.

Eventually, they calm down and manage to extricate themselves from the bed and Alexsandr’s grasp. It’s obvious they can’t sleep all together in the same bed and they need to find a solution. Timur’s idea is quickly discarded since they would need to move the bed for that one to work, and in the end they go with Maxim’s suggestion to just throw some blankets on the floor and sleep on the ground, just like when they go camping.

Since it was his idea, Maxim volunteers to sleep on the ground. The blankets and extra pillow look almost comfortable, but Shuhrat isn’t feeling inclined to sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly nice bed available. In the end, Alexsandr decides for them all when he says he will take the bed and drags Shuhrat down with him. It’s a more than agreeable solution, and Timur settles next to Maxim, hugging him close and burying his face on the hunter’s hair. He whispers something to him that Shuhrat doesn’t quite catch, and while neither of them can see Maxim’s face, but Shuhrat is willing to bet he’s smiling with that soft expression he only ever uses when the four of them are alone.

“Come here _малыш _,” Sasha says to him, “the bed is cold.”

In fact, the bed is every bit as comfortable and warm as he remembered, but he has to admit Alexsandr is even warmer. Shuhrat wiggles closer to him, and Sasha doesn’t hesitate to put an arm over his waist. A sense of peace finally settles over him, and Shuhrat doesn’t even realise he’s quickly falling asleep.

When he opens his eyes hours later, there’s barely a hint of light coming through the window. It’s way too early to be awake, and Shuhrat fully intends to turn around and go back to Alexsandr’s arms, except he hears the faint noises coming from the living room. In the dead of night, when everything’s silent, even the tiniest sounds can seem louder than a gunshot. The quiet sniffling he hears is certainly more worrying.

He slowly crawls out of the bed and jumps over the sleeping couple on the floor, trying his best not to wake them up. Thankfully, their snoring provides an excellent cover for any noise Shuhrat makes. Moving in the near darkness of the room isn’t easy, but Shuhrat gets to the door without stepping on anyone, so he will count that as a victory.

The lights are on in the living room, his grandma sitting on the couch and staring at a photo album she has on her lap. He doesn’t need to see the picture to know it’s his brother, the tears she quickly wipes from her face are proof enough.

“Is everything alright, darling?” His grandma asks him, as if she isn’t the one crying.

“Shouldn’t I be asking that?” Shuhrat sits next to her, and then he sees the photograph she’s been staring. The image is all in black and white, of him and his brother as kids, posing in front of the Christmas tree in this same house, with both his parents and grandparents standing next to them. 

“I’m just old and sentimental. It will happen to you too when you get to my age,” she attempts to smile but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her wistful sigh upon looking again at the picture is more heartfelt than her attempt at convincing him everything’s fine, and Shuhrat waits for her to continue. “I sometimes forget he’s not coming back, then it hits me again we will never see him again.”

He doesn’t know what to say, what to tell her that will make her feel better, because there are no magical words that can heal their loss. So he just takes one of her small hands and squeezes it. The fact that she squeezes back makes him hope she knows what he’s trying to convey. His grandma often said that getting him to talk was like pulling teeth, but still she always understood his gestures better than anyone else.

She flips the album’s page and this time the image is similar to the last one, except they’re all older and Valentina is hanging from his arm. “You know, you never brought home anyone since her.”

“I haven’t had any more serious girlfriends,” Shuhrat answers laconically, trying to hide how rattled he is by that comment, by what she could be implying.

Being on the receiving end of one of her unamused glares is terrifying, but Shuhrat has years of practice in feigning innocence. Especially from being caught getting more cookies than he should. However, as always, his facade never really stands up to his grandmother’s inspection.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Shuhrat, I know when you’re bullshitting,” she sternly reminds him. Then, in a more gentle tone, she says, “I just can’t figure out which one of them it is.”

The sudden onset of panic feels remarkably similar to having a bucket of icy cold water dumped over his head. His whole body tenses and Shuhrat forgets to breathe for a few seconds. Thankfully, he remains outwardly calm, only betraying his nervousness when he licks his lips before talking.

“You have some strange ideas, _buvi _.”

“Oh, have I?” She looks at him, holding his gaze in some sort of contest, waiting to see his lies crumble. “What else I’m supposed to think then? You broke your engagement days before the wedding, saying having a wife wasn’t the right path for you. And now you come with your ‘friends’, the same friends you’re always talking about in your letters and calls, and you all keep looking at each other like your grandfather, bless his soul, used to look at me.”

The silence between them is heavy, fraught with words neither of them dare to speak yet, both of them waiting for the other to say something. He could lie, deny the truth, but it would be futile. Shuhrat Isn’t a good liar, and his grandma knows him too well to be so easily fooled.

She sighs, and Shuhrat braces himself for what he’s about to hear. “Does he treat you well?”

“What?” This isn’t what he expected, and her face is carefully neutral, like a mask.

“Does your man treat you well?” She repeats.

Unable to find his voice, Shuhrat just nods.

“And you care for him?” He nods again, and his grandma nods in approval. “Then it’s all fine. Tell me, which of them captured your heart?”

This is where it gets complicated, because the answer is that somehow he found himself loving all three of them: Timur with his easy-going and attentive nature barely hiding the steel underneath, Maxim with his unshakeable loyalty despite his generally sour outlook on life, and Alexsandr with his blunt manners and charm yet always caring and affectionate in his own way.

“All,” Shuhrat manages to whisper.

“Oh well,” his grandma lets out a small laugh, looking confused but not angry. “I can’t say I understand how that works, but if you’re happy that’s all that matters, darling. It’s all I ever wanted for you.”

Shuhrat’s sure he must be dreaming. It can’t be that easy, right? There have been no shouts, no harsh words, no questioning of his feelings. Only acceptance. He never imagined it could be like this. It definitely wasn’t this easy when Maxim’s brothers learnt the truth, and Sasha’s sister also needed some time to accept it. This seems too good to be true. Perhaps… perhaps she’s just putting on a happy front for his sake.

“Will you be staying for the New Year?” His grandma asks, and he assures her they will. Her smile is too bright to be fake. “We can take a picture in front of the tree, with your boys. It’s been a while since I had a new addition to the album.”

Such a small gesture, but he knows how much it means to his grandma. She already counts them as family, and Shuhrat gets all choked up. “Sure, we will. I think they will like that.”

“Great, now go back to bed before you catch a cold.” She puts the photo album away. “You don’t want to start the year tomorrow sick, do you?”

He gets up only after extracting a promise from her that she will also go to sleep. Privately, Shuhrat is of the opinion that not even getting sick could spoil his mood. He has received the best gift he could have ever asked for.

“Just don’t break the bed you four. It’s strong but older than me, I don’t know how much vigorous activity it can still withstand.” Shuhrat nearly chokes at her comment, shocked she would make this kind of jokes. “What, do you think I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young?”

His grandma has never been one to hold her tongue, and her mischievous look makes him realise this won’t be the last time she says something similar. Shuhrat can’t wait to see his lovers’ reaction to her teasing comments come morning. It’s going to be an interesting breakfast for sure, and the best New Year of the last handful of years.

**Author's Note:**

> You can say hi and see what I'm currently up to on [my tumblr](http://r6shippingdelivery.tumblr.com/)!


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